love can guarantee you'll come back to me
by CalaveraCandiedSkull
Summary: There were the days Leo came, and the days he came back. Then there were the days in between. - calypso, ogygia & the waiting game.
1. the smile

When the boat sailed, she ran.

She ran for several reasons. One, she didn't want to see his face as he sailed away. For once in her life, she didn't know what it would look like. She was so used to seeing the face of a man – of a boy, really – with his jaw set and his eyes on the horizon, looking forwards. They were always looking forwards, and that made it easy to watch them as they left. She couldn't do that this time because _this time_ he was looking back, and she couldn't bear it, she just couldn't.

She also ran because her lips burned.

That had never happened to her before. Kissing, in her past experience, did not leave one feeling like they put too much pepper in their food. It certainly didn't leave one feeling like they suddenly needed to put more pepper in their food.

Afterwards, she thought that running barefoot was perhaps not the greatest idea. By the time she made it to the garden, the soles of her feet had been scraped bloody raw. She hadn't been wearing her sandals for the past several days, and while her feet were growing tougher every day, they were nothing in the face of being slammed repeatedly onto rocks and twigs.

She ran until she reached her garden. There, in the presence of her tools and flowers, with the orchard smelling like apples and home, she felt safe. It was like a shield. This was her serenity, her place of peace, her –

Her fountain was fixed.

And suddenly her garden was no longer her serenity, but an assault. Everything here had been fixed, or polished, or built on, or greased, by him. She felt like all the air inside her body had been sucked out in one fell swoop, and she couldn't feel her legs or the ground beneath her. She couldn't even feel her bloody feet anymore.

So she ran again, into her cave, the one place on the island she knew he hadn't been.

Inside was a sanctuary. There was nothing here, she thought, nothing to remind her. She walked, slowly, to the very back wall of her cave – the farthest from the beach she could possibly be. Then she placed a hand against the wall, bracing herself, and closed her eyes.

Every other time she had cried.

With every hero that left her island, she cried. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. Sometimes longer. For Odysseus, it might have been years. You lose track of time, when every day is the same. Every other time, she cried until her tears ran out; and then she would dry her eyes, and start waiting for the next hero.

So she braced herself on the cold crystal wall, closed her eyes and waited.

Surely, the tears would come. They always did. They had been there, earlier, when the raft arrived. Tears had gathered in her eyes like a well, but somewhere between the beach and the cave the well had dried out, and now she couldn't cry if she wanted to.

Her fingers scraped on a rough piece of crystal. She opened her dry eyes, in surprise. There was a chunk of crystal missing. The edges were jagged, and the sand around her was littered with tiny, sparkling fragment and crystal dust.

Ah, she thought wryly. So there was a piece of him inside the cave as well, then.

She thought about Leo Valdez. She thought about his fiery attitude, his bad jokes, his crooked grin, his clothes, his clothes burnt away; the way his toes curled in the sand, the way his fingers worked machines, the way he cradled his sphere. She thought about his eyes, his small hands, his teeth, his ears, his knees, his laugh; his silly, reckless, stupid empty promise.

And Calypso smiled.

* * *

**I can't believe it's been two months since House of Hades. Can you? And now, we have ten more months to wait until Blood of Olympus. I can't decide who has it worse - us or Calypso!**

**So I'll just be posting these weird drabbles, from now until the release of Blood of Olympus, chronicling the days she spends waiting for Leo, and delving into her past, her life story, and all the other heroes who've washed up on the shores of Ogygia. I guess it's my coping mechanism? **

**Anyway, hope people enjoy! Remember, we're in this horrible waiting game together!**


	2. the conclusion

Later, Calypso went to rest her feet in the fountain.

She hadn't realized how bad they were until the stinging became unbearable, and she was forced to look down. When running through the forest, back to her garden, she must have stumbled over a rock, because her large toenail was broken. Bending down to touch it, she cringed.

So Calypso seated herself on the edge of the fountain, not caring if her jeans got a little wet. She dipped her feet into the clear blue water, and hissed.

The pain was instant. Calypso had once heard a phrase, 'to bleed just to know you're alive.' If this was a reminder, then Calypso wasn't sure she wanted it. It felt like someone had taken sandpaper to the soles of her feet, and scraped it against them.

After several minutes, the initial pain receded, and Calypso leaned down to examine her feet. She swished the water around, and it started turning gold with the ichor that bled out of her. Gingerly, she rubbed the scratches. Small granules of sand rubbed with her, and she winced and drew her hands away.

"Curses," she spat aloud. How had she managed to get so much sand under her skin?

After trying and failing several times to clean them out, Calypso gave up. She leaned back on her hands and settled for swirling her feet back and forth. She tilted her face back, feeling the night air. If memory served her correct, by the slight lightening of the eastern sky, the sun would rise soon.

It would be her first real day here without Leo, she realized.

Despite the rather upsetting gravity of the situation, she smiled again. It was hard, not to smile, when thinking about Leo Valdez.

She remembered, fondly, how much she hated him when he first arrived. Well, _arrived_ was not the word for it. Crashed. Leo had crashed into her life in a burst of flames, and had continued like a wrecking ball right up until he left. There was nothing but destruction in his wake. Calypso rather liked it.

And he promised to come back.

It came upon her like a tidal wave, the urge to squeal. Calypso had never squealed before. She did not squeal. And yet, here she was, clutching her hands to chest and feeling giddy.

Leo had promised her to come back. And even though Calypso told herself not to think about it, because the disappointment would be unbearable, she thought about it. She thought about him returning on his dragon, Festus. She wanted to see Festus. She desperately wanted to see the camp, and all of Leo's friends, and-

She had to pull her feet out of the fountain to wrap her knees up to her chest. Her skin tingled from excitement. She imagined climbing onto the back of the dragon and flying across the world to have grand adventures with Leo. For the rest of their lives, they would-

Calypso stopped.

Everything stopped, all at once. Her heart missed several beats. She ceased to breath. Every muscle in her body froze. And her thoughts ground to a halt, leaving Calypso sitting on the edge of her fountain like a marble statue.

How stupid was she?

How much of an idiot was she, that she let herself think like that? Had she forgotten the most important thing?

Calypso was immortal.

Even if, by some miracle, Leo returned and managed to release her from Ogygia, what would it accomplish? Eventually he would age, and die, and she would remain in the body of a fifteen year old. What if they did try to have a life together? When Leo was twenty-five, or thirty, or older? Would he still want anything to do with a girl who still looked like a girl?

And then, when Leo died, as those without immortality always did, Calypso would be left alone again. And this time, she did not think she would be able to heal.

Calypso raised her head to the sky. She had been wrong, she thought wryly. Sending that 'charbroiled runt' was not her punishment. This was.

Dimly, she wondered if Leo, if he came back, could be persuaded to stay. But immediately she knew he wouldn't. What person would choose to stay here, when they had friends and family waiting for them? She wouldn't. Calypso wouldn't choose this life in a thousand years. And if Leo did decide to stay, what would happen if another hero washed up on her shore? He would never be released, because Calypso would never fall for him. Lives would be ruined by her selfishness.

No, she thought. Even if Leo came back, Calypso could only tell him to turn right back around where he came. Hopefully he would forget about her before then.

She put her feet back in the fountain. This time, she barely felt the pain as she began rubbing the sand away. She washed her feet until the bleeding stopped, and the wounds began to heal. Then she pulled them out of the water, and waited until they dried. White scars ran along her soles.

Calypso summoned a servant to bring her sandals. After so many days without them, her feet felt strangely cushioned.

She still didn't cry. She was a little too hollow for that.

The sun had risen over the ridge. It was a new day on Ogygia. Calypso did what she had always done; the only thing she knew how to do anymore. She sat down on the beach and waited for the next hero to arrive.

* * *

**Weekly updates are probably something to expect, yo.**

**ALSO. The amount of people that followed and did nothing else. Like...I want to be mad but honestly that's what I do with drabble series too pfff**


	3. the past

"It's finally happened!"

The raucous, booming laughter filled the hall, the sound closely followed by loud footsteps. Seconds later, a giant of a man came bursting through the doorway, with skin like hardened bronze and cruel eyes alight. He surveyed the room, placing his hands on his hip.

The hall was part of a fine palace, one of the many palaces decorating the slopes of Mount Othrys. It was built almost entirely of bronze, much like the Titan who owned it. On a far table in the back, a young man sat broken and bloodied, arguing hotly with the girl who was bandaging his wounds. Both of their heads swung to face the doorway.

"Fa-_ther_," complained the girl. "Not so loud, if you please."

"Father!" The young man exclaimed in joy. He leapt to his feet, ignoring the fierce glare his sister sent him. "What news? What's happened?"

The Titan spread his arms wide. "That fool of a god, Zeus, has declared war on the Titans!"

The girl got to her feet, brushing gauze and bandages off her hands and sweeping caramel locks out of her face. "I fail to see how that is good news," she said dryly.

Her brother turned around. "How can you say that, Calypso? After years of skirmishes with the foolish Olympians, we can finally be rid of them once and for all!"

"Hyas, please do not exert yourself so, I _just_ splinted your arm."

Hyas made a face at her, and she stuck her tongue out before the Titan clapped his hands, creating a sound like an explosion through the hall. Both children covered their ears. "Enough!" He bellowed. "This is not the time for petty squabbles, children. I have greater news still." Then his stony eyes seemed to focus on his son for the first time. "Hyas, what happened to you?"

The young man straightened, drawing himself up to full height. He had a thin, sallow face and a drooping nose, with eyes the colour of falling rain. He didn't look a thing like his father; he was thin, with wiry muscles and long arms. Hyas was not handsome by any measure, but he was one of the most skilled archers of the Titan army.

Now he picked up his bow, brandishing it to his father. "I robbed a lioness of her cubs this morning. I plan to raise the cubs to be loyal only to me, and to have an army of lions when I go to war."

His face was eager. Calypso rolled her eyes, and neglected to mention that Hyas had nearly gotten himself ripped to shreds by the lioness' claws. It was the fifth in a string of stupid stunts Hyas began pulling to get his father's attention. Calypso was convinced that one day Hyas was going to kill himself, but when she warned him about it, he simply brushed it off.

Atlas looked at his son appraisingly. "Well done," he nodded. "Of course, it is a shame that they will not be ready for the coming war with the Olympians."

"That all depends on how fast I can train them," Hyas replied quickly. "Father, you said you had more news?"

The mention made Atlas smile, the hard light returning to his eyes. "Kronos," he began, crossing his arms over his armoured chest, "has made me a General."

Hyas gasped, and immediately fell to his knees. "Father!" he simpered. "Congratulations! No one else deserves such a great honour but you!"

Calypso, still angry at her brother for being an idiot, now felt a second surge of annoyance at his groveling behavior. She leapt towards Atlas, throwing her arms around his neck. "That is wonderful news indeed!" She gasped in false delight. Atlas responded by picking her up and spinning her, as he did when she was just a girl.

When he placed her down, Calypso looked over her shoulder. Hyas' face had gone sickly yellow, and he muttered under his breath. "Daddy's girl."

She merely smiled in triumph, then turned back. "When did this happen?"

"As soon as Zeus declared the war." Atlas began pacing back and forth across the hall, leaving any trace of fatherly affection behind, his mind now in battle formation. "He promoted me, and then asked if any of my children would join our cause."

"You know I will, Father," Hyas pledged instantly.

"I already assured Kronos that you would," Atlas nodded. "It is your sisters I am the more concerned about." He looked to Calypso. She felt her stomach twist, but before any words could be spoken, the doors to the hall clattered open once again.

Atlas smiled again, and spread his arms in welcome. "Maia! Aesyle! Zoë! Thank you for heeding my summons so soon!"

Three young women stood in the doorway, each looking different from the last. Calypso's eyes flittered over them in recognition, and without meaning to she began charting off in her head.

Atlas had many children, the eldest being the Pleiades; seven daughters of the sea nymph, Pleione. Like Calypso and Hyas, they did not look like their father, but had pale skin and hair that glinted like the sun on the sea. The eldest, Maia, had come to represent the rest of her sisters. Her hair was woven with blue jewels and pieces of gold, and she wore the insignia of Olympus on the belt of her chiton.

Calypso had not ever known Pleione, the first wife of their father, but she imagined by the look of repressed pain in her father's face, that Maia had grown to look just like her.

Hyas ran to embrace the one in the middle. "Aesyle!" He cried in joy. "You came!"

Aesyle looked nearly identical to Hyas, with skin so sallow the blue veins were visible across most of her body. Her rainy eyes were sunken, and her black hair was wet and plastered to her cheeks, like she had run through a hurricane to reach them. They were the children of Aethra, another sea nymph, and sister to Pleione. Aesyle was the eldest of three sisters, known collectively as the Hyades, for their love and blind compassion for their brother. Because of their penchant for bringing dreary rain, they had been named 'the rainy ones.'

Both Maia and Aesyle were smiling slightly, but the sister on the far right kept her face calm, rigid, and cool. She, of all Atlas' children, looked like him. Her skin was darkened bronze, her eyes and hair glossy black. It struck Calypso as strange that Zoë should be the one representing the Hesperides, as she was not the eldest. She was, however, the only one who had ever been able to stand up to Atlas. That was something that not even her mother, Hesperius, had been able to do.

The Hesperides had grown believing their mother to be Pleione. After discovering the truth about their parentage, Calypso could not blame Zoë for wanting to pretend she was the daughter of a proud and noble sea nymph. Pleione had certainly treated them as daughters, from what Calypso had heard.

But the cold, cruel truth of the matter was that their mother was a mortal woman. Hesperius and her beauty had been compared to that of the evening star. It had caught the attention of Atlas, who pursued her; but after the birth of the five Hesperides, he took the children and left her. Her mortal body had not been able to handle it, and she died.

The truth had been hidden from the Hesperides for a long time; but by the cold, angry light in Zoë's eyes, Calypso guessed that it had been uncovered. Zoë folded her arms and raised her chin defiantly.

"Why have you called us here, Father?" She demanded, her voice ringing like a bell.

Atlas explained the declaration of war, and his new position. "I asked one of you each here to represent your sisters when I ask: will you fight as part of my personal army?"

Calypso sucked in her breath. That was an honour beyond imaginable. To be asked privately to be part of a personal army of a General, fighting on the front lines of the army, was certainly honour enough. But they had been asked by Atlas. _Asked_. Atlas never asked; he took. Even Hyas looked astonished.

Perhaps her father really did feel something for his children. Calypso's heart gave a twinge of affection.

Zoë narrowed her eyes. Without missing a step, she stated, "The Hesperides refuse."

"As do the Pleiades," Maia nodded. Atlas looked back and forth between the two of them, his eyes finally settling on Maia with disgust.

"I might have guessed you would," he spat at her. "Now that you've become Zeus' whore."

Maia touched her belt, fingers brushing gently over the Olympian insignia. "I am not his whore," she replied calmly. "He has offered my sisters and I protection against all evil, forever. I do believe Zeus loves me."

"Just because you bore him a bastard child," Atlas spat again. The spittle landed on the floor by Maia's feet. She stepped away, nose wrinkling ever so slightly. But she remained composed.

"Hermes is no bastard," she said. "And he is no child anymore. He has grown into a fine young god." Her face softened. "I am quite proud of him."

Atlas' face darkened. "I'll tear him to shreds on the battlefield.'

"You will do no such thing," Maia returned. "You see, I am not the only one proud of Hermes. Zeus regards him as one of the highest of his children, and has offered him a throne on Olympus when they win. You cannot lay hand on Hermes so much as you can his father."

"I will destroy Zeus for taking you away from me!" Atlas roared. "And that bastard is no grandson of mine! He will _perish!_"

"Say what you will, Father." Maia turned to leave, to return to Olympus. A golden glow floated around her, and Calypso had no doubts Zeus granted her safe passage. He really had offered her protection. "You will lose this war."

Hyas, who had remained speechless since the argument began, turned quickly to Aesyle. "Please say you will fight alongside me," he begged. "I can give each of you a lion cub to protect you!"

But Aesyle had already begun to cry. Drops of rained splattered her face, though they were indoors. "No, brother," she whispered. "We have decided to remain indifferent."

Atlas fixed his gaze on Zoë. Any trace of fatherly affection was rapidly disappearing from his face. "And you? What are your reasons, daughter?"

"We know the truth about our mother." Zoë met his gaze with equal indifference. "Once Hera learned of our hatred for you, she offered us a job. She has grown a garden in the far west for us, and has charged us with guarding her golden apples."

"Guarding apples for all eternity," Atlas chuckled with no humor. "I cannot think of a more befitting life for traitors."

The very air in the room began to darken around them as Atlas' anger became palpable. "Get out," he growled to both.

Aesyle whimpered and slipped away, leaving Hyas clutching empty air. Zoë merely smirked. She turned and marched out the door.

"So," Atlas snarled. "My daughters abandon me, eh?" The he laughed. "Who needs them? I shall no longer recognize them as my children. If I ever have the displeasure of meeting them again, they will die by my hand."

Calypso felt her knees going weak. She was still in shock over what her sisters had done. Gingerly, she took a step forward. "Father?"

He started, as though forgetting she had been there. "Calypso," he said, his voice gentle. He touched her cheek lightly, and Calypso had to fight the urge to lean into his hand. Behind his eyes, she could almost see something had shattered. "My one good daughter," he murmured. "Is it only you that remains?"

Calypso wanted to argue. She wanted to claim indifference like Aesyle. But she could not abandon her father. "I will fight alongside you," she whispered. "I have been practicing my magic. I know I can be of service."

"I believe you." Then Atlas' eyes hardened into pure stone, and Calypso saw the last shred of parental concern leave them forever. He stepped away, pulling Hyas towards him with one long arm. Looking at both of them, he began speaking as a General to his army. "Zeus has begun a march towards Othrys. He will be here, if not tomorrow then for certain the next day. Spend tonight preparing, and when you wake in the morning, be ready for war."

Then he left his palace, to fill his new role as General and discuss strategy with the other Titans.

Calypso turned to Hyas. He still looked troubled. "Why would Aesyle and the others not fight?" he muttered, to himself more than to her. He picked up his bow once more and walked off in the direction of his rooms.

Now completely alone, the wind seemed the whistle a little more eerily through the palace walls. Calypso shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Sighing, she turned and ran back to her private rooms, long braid whipping behind her.

Calypso's rooms were luxurious and beautiful, more sumptuous than that of any mortal princess. It looked like the rest of the palace, with bronze walls and black marbled floors. It was also very cold, save for the roaring fire she had burning at her hearth.

But tonight she was not alone. Someone sat in the chair by the hearth. When Calypso closed the door, said someone rose and faced her. Calypso bit the inside of her cheek.

"Hello, Mother," she ground out in frustration.

"Daughter." Doris bowed her head slightly. The old woman looked nearly identical to Calypso, and it drove her crazy. Of course she couldn't look at all like her father. No, she had to have the same face as this philandering Oceanid.

Doris looked old, much older than her years. Her face, weather-beaten and lined, still held the same high cheekbones and pert nose that Calypso shared. Her eyes, under heavy lids, were almond-shaped and deep brown. Her hair was streaked through with grey, and braided nearly down to the floor with seashells and ocean pearls. Her body was hidden, draped by a heavy black shawl, but her shoulders were straight.

"How is your husband?" Calypso inquired coolly. "Doing well, I presume. Unless he has finally died?"

"Nereus is doing wonderfully," Doris replied. "Although he really has earned the name Old Man of the Sea, by now. He looks more and more like a prune with each day that passes!" She laughed lightly.

"Your face isn't doing much better," Calypso replied, and Doris' laughter faded quickly. "Why are you really here, Mother?"

"To warn you," Doris said simply. She looked at Calypso with tired eyes. "I understand you have no love for me-"

"No love?" Calypso was incredulous. "How can I hold any love for you? You chose another man over my father."

"You should not hold Atlas in such high esteem," Doris cautioned. "He is not as great a man as you think he is."

"He raised me when you would have nothing to do with me," Calypso shot.

"Yes, and what a shoddy job he did," Doris curled her lips, gazing at Calypso in distaste. "Look at you. Stubborn, bull-headed, ill-tempered, and rude."

"I am not."

"You are, daughter. Even now you cannot see that your father will fail."

The words were like a dagger in Calypso's chest. She clenched her fists. "He will not! Father has been made a General! He is undefeatable!"

"You foolish girl!" Doris' eyes flashed green, and the fire in the hearth suddenly vanished. The room blackened quickly, the only light coming from the green glow around Doris. She raised a withered hand, and swirled it in the air. A circle of water shimmered into existence before her.

"How is your magic, little fool?" Doris inquired. Her voice sounded different; hollow, echoing. Calypso's throat crawled with fear.

"I am quite adept," she said, cursing her shaking voice. "I can see all manner of things across the past and present-"

"But can you see the future?" The water began to show fleeting images, moving too fast for Calypso to make out any of them. "I did not think so. Your stubbornness is your downfall. You are always trapped in your past. You cannot see to the future, especially if it is a future you do not wish to see."

Calypso wanted to scream in anger and cry in terror at the same time. "What do you see, then?" She shot. "Are you so sure Father will fall?"

Doris' lips turned up in a wide smile, eyes glowing bright green. "Oh, Atlas will not fall. He will simply kneel."

"What? What does that-"

"Othrys will fall. The Titans will fall. And those of you who fought alongside them, you will be punished severely."

"B-but I won't even be fighting!" Calypso's fear broke through, and suddenly she was begging in desperation. "I'll be on the sidelines, tending to the wounded! That's what my magic is strongest at!"

"But you will be on the Titan's sidelines nonetheless, and that will reap you punishment. Even your sisters will be indirectly punished, simply for being Atlas' daughters."

"What?" Calypso's face was wet. She touched her cheek; she had been crying and hadn't noticed. "What do you see, Mother?"

"Zeus will keep his promise to the Pleiades. They will be protected, from everything – a protection so great that it will place them in a prison. Hyas will fall on the battlefield, taking on a task that was too large for his small arms. The Hyades will mourn him, and their tears will cause such floods of rain that Zeus will have no choice but to place them out of the way. As for the Hesperides, they will not be the only ones guarding the garden. I see another presence, one that makes their lives a constant stream of fear. I sense one of them will know pain so great, she will leave the protection of the garden forever, and eventually it will kill her."

Calypso didn't know why, but she whispered, "Zoë..."

The water vanished with a wave of Doris' hand. The glow faded from her eyes. She reached out a hand to touch Calypso's face; and if she hadn't been so shaken, she would have recoiled at the wrinkled skin.

"Perhaps you have greater talents than I thought," Doris mused. "The future is so hard to see because it can be changed, daughter. Change your future. Do not fight with your father, fight against him. Perhaps you can be spared an eternity of loss."

Calypso gathered her wits. She drew away from Doris. "I'd rather have that than turn against my own father," she said quietly. "I love him."

For once Doris' eyes seemed kind. "I understand," she nodded. "Well, at least I tried. I should have known you wouldn't listen to me...stubborn girl."

Then she vanished, leaving Calypso alone in a quiet, dark room.

The day seemed to crash in on her at once –Hyas nearly dying, the war, her sisters' betrayal, her mother's visit – and she fell to her knees on the floor, too panicked to even breathe. Tears splashed onto the floor, and suddenly afraid of the dark, Calypso crawled towards her fireplace and quickly restarted it. Once it was roaring again and filled the room so much it looked like daylight, Calypso crawled into her bed, pulled the thick sheets over her, and wept.

-·~·-

When Calypso awoke on Ogygia, the first thing she did was roll out of her bed and pull a sheet of parchment towards her. Grabbing the piece of charcoal she'd taken from the fireplace, she added a second tally line on the top left corner of the page. Then she sighed. Day two without Leo Valdez.

Well, her mother had certainly been right about one thing. Calypso was always trapped in her past.

* * *

**Your mother was right about a heck of a lot more than that Calypso**

**So, this was longer. Lots of names, lots of random people. But I promise, they will come back into play! If anyone has any questions about who all these people are, feel free to just send me a message. I'll be happy to clarify anything. :)**


	4. the first

Calypso called it her Book of Heroes.

That wasn't entirely the best name for it. It was an old scroll, one of the only things Calypso had been given upon her banishment. It was enchanted, so that it could never run out of paper. Supposedly, it was to be used to chronicle the days of Calypso's exile. But during her first years on Ogygia, Calypso had been far too proud to write anything down.

Back on those first years, Calypso had not been the same as she was today. She wasn't bitter, or angry, or sad. She was ignorant. She had no idea of the pain that lay ahead. She had been petulant, annoyed. She stamped her feet a lot and turned her nose in the air, as if to tell the gods, _fine. I didn't need your sympathy anyway._

At first, Calypso had refused to see how the island was such a prison. It was a tropical paradise. She was still smarting after the Titan's loss against the Olympians. Her family suffered horrible fates – Hyas died, Atlas was trapped holding the sky – but she didn't feel any real remorse. She felt annoyance at them, especially at her father. She was glad to be here, in this small slice of heaven. She was as far away from her family as possible.

She forgot about the scroll; forgot that this was supposed to be punishment. Calypso spent every day weaving herself fine clothes at the loom, eating delicious stew, delighting herself with the wonders of the island. She swam in the lake and waded in the surf and rejoiced in being alone.

Calypso didn't know how long, exactly, it was until her first hero washed up on the shore. Five hundred years, perhaps? Time was difficult for her to keep track of, so she never bothered. She hadn't even thought about life outside Ogygia continuing until a young man with black hair and sky-blue eyes washed out of the water and onto the sand.

Contrary to popular belief, Odysseus was not the first.

No, that honour belonged to the arrogant, cocky, thunder-throwing son of Zeus known as Perseus.

-·~·-

Her morning started out like any other. She woke with the sunrise, stretched out, shed her nightgown for a luxurious chiton made from woven gold strands. She tied the sandals around her feet, and wandered out of her cave. After having a small, internal monologue questioning what she should do with her day, Calypso decided to visit the beach.

The last time, she had walked the perimeter of the island. It took several hours of aimless wandering, but she discovered new things, like the cove that was covered with starfish, and the large black rock that jutted out over the sea like a ledge. Today Calypso thought she might trace her steps in the opposite direction, but a sight on the beach made her halt in her tracks.

Someone had washed ashore.

After several minutes of staring, Calypso came to her sense and ran to him. Five hundred years had not dimmed her nursing abilities in the slightest, and she gently turned over the boy. He couldn't have been too much older than her, looks-wise. A youth of perhaps seventeen. His face was handsome, but marred by cuts, bruises, and boils. One of his eyes was swollen shut.

Instinct took over. Calypso stripped the boy of his armour, running her hands over his bare chest. She sang, as she worked, and the magic made the bruising heal somewhat. She placed a palm on his forehead, and willed the swelling to go down.

She thought she was doing well, when the youth's eyes flew open and he bellowed, _"Cetus!"_ A bolt of lightning flashed down from the clear sky and landed inches away from Calypso, turning the sand into glass. She screamed and pulled away.

The beach was smoking where the lighting hit. The youth had stumbled to his feet, and was looking around the beach wildly. "Cetus!" He raved. "Where are you? Fight me, you insufferable _coward!_"

Calypso regained her senses after a moment, and shook her head. "Sit down!" She ordered. The youth fixed his eyes on her.

"Who are you?" He demanded. Then his energy drained once more, and he sank to his knees. "Andromeda..." he murmured, before passing out face-first in the sand.

Calypso felt a spark of anger at him. She was sure Andromeda was the name of a girl – a girl who was not her. She was tempted, for a moment, to leave the young man there to die on the beach. But, once again, Calypso's nursing habits kicked in, and she picked up the boy and carried him back to her cave.

She settled him in her four-poster bed, arranging the white sheets around him. She bandaged most of his wounds, and sang a healing hymn to speed the process. The she set a lyre by the bedside to play soothing music that would keep him asleep. Once he was set in a deep slumber, his wounds slowly healing, she left to gather his belongings.

Several things were strewn around the beach. Calypso wandered around, picking them all up. One was a beautiful diamond ring, one that Calypso would surely have missed if it hadn't sparkled so brightly in the sunlight. Admiring it, she slipped the ring on her finger. It was too big, and she pouted; but a second later, the ring changed. It grew in size and became a long sword, the blade made completely out of diamond.

Calypso gasped. She admired the sword for several moments, before letting go of the hilt. Instantly it shrank and became a ring once again. She took it off, and admired the diamond.

This was no ordinary mortal, Calypso realized instantly. A magical sword such as this, one that disguised itself as a ring, could only be a gift from the gods.

Calypso had realized instantly that the boy who washed ashore was mortal. But back during the reign of the Titans, when she had still been an active part of the world, mortals were nothing but mere playthings – entertainment of Kronos. She wondered, then, how much things had changed since her banishment, and how it came to be that a mortal could summon lightning and wield magic, diamond swords.

She soon realized that the other things, she had assumed to be pieces of junk, were valuable items in disguise. A pair of sandals sprang a pair of white wings when she touched them. A simple, worn leather wristband became into a large, polished bronze shield. Unlike other shields Calypso had seen, this was completely smooth, with no design etched on the front. She could see her reflection clearly.

Another thing that caught her attention was the pure black helmet laying in the sand. Calypso didn't want to look directly at it. She knew that the Helm of Darkness was always shifting, constantly changing its appearance. But this polished helmet, black iron hammered into the shape of a screech owl, was undeniably one of the forms it took. Looking around at the other obvious gifts from the gods, Calypso reasoned that it was a copy of lesser power. Indeed, when she slipped the helmet over her head, her body vanished.

There was one other thing. A small, black bag, wrapped tightly together, with a design of golden apples and the sunset stitched into the fabric. The design made Calypso nostalgic and homesick, although she didn't know what for.

Something told her not to open the bag. So she collected it in her arms, along with the ring, the sandals, the wristband, the helmet, and the dented and scratched bronze breastplate. Arms full and barely able to see over the load, she carried them back to her garden and set them down by her rosebushes.

As the youth continued to heal over several days, Calypso restored his armour to normal. She rarely slept, taking the time to re-apply the bandages or admire the sword. She quickly discovered the winged sandals could not fly, but Calypso had a sneaking suspicion that had to do with the magic of her island.

And with every passing day, the urge to look inside the bag grew stronger, until finally one morning, Calypso gave up the battle with her curiosity and began to open the satchel.

"I wouldn't do that."

Calypso jumped nearly a mile. The young man was standing in the mouth of the cave, leaning heavily on the walls. He had lost weight, but his face had cleared of all wounds; and seeing him in all his smooth-skinned, bare-chested glory, Calypso had a hard time fighting the fluttering in her chest.

"That bag was gift from the Hesperides," he said. His voice was deep, considering his age. "It can contain some of the darkest evils."

It took several seconds for Calypso to tear her gaze back up to his face. "You should not be on your feet," she managed to say. "You haven't fully regained your strength."

He smiled; or rather, he grinned. On a sharp, angular face like his, there was a large difference. "I will be fine once I have something to eat." His eyes roamed her garden. "Do you have any food?"

She led him to her fire pit, where a pot sat with stew bubbling. She gave him a large bowl, and watched as he scarfed it down.

"Who are you?" She asked after a time. He paused in his eating, eyes focusing on her. She wanted to squirm under their gaze.

"Perseus," he said presently. "Prince of Argos and Seriphos."

Two places she had never heard of. Moreover, the idea that mortals could be princes was baffling. The way she remembered things, humans had no hierarchies. Had things really changed so much?

Perseus was still watching her. She realized her face must be confused. Settling for a lofty tone to hide her embarrassment, Calypso said, "I have never heard of such places."

He scoffed. "Liar. Seriphos I could believe, but Argos is one of the great kingdoms of the land. Surely you must have heard of how I reclaimed it from my traitorous stepfather."

Calypso shook her head. Perseus looked at her in amazement. "Truly? Well, let me tell you my life story. My stepfather, the king of Argos, cast my mother and I out to sea as children, but we landed safely on the island of Seriphos. There I was raised by the island king. Two years ago, he tried to marry my mother, but I refused. He was not to be trusted, see. So he plotted to be rid of me, by sending me on a quest to kill the Gorgon, Medusa."

Calypso's stomach had begun to churn. She looked over to the black bag, still seated by the fireplace. "That is..."

"The head of Medusa, yes." Perseus said it in a matter of fact tone. "Upon returning, I found the king of Seriphos had married my mother, so I used the head to turn him in to stone. Then I travelled on to Argos, where I turned my other stepfather to stone as well."

Perseus seemed to catch the look of horror on Calypso's face as she stared at the bag. "I did warn you not to open it."

She covered her face, trying to make it a blank mask. Even Calypso had heard the story of Medusa, the woman cursed with snakes for hair, but she'd thought it to be just a story. She couldn't decide if she was afraid of this mortal, or impressed.

"Two stepfathers killed," she mused. "No wonder you are prince of two kingdoms."

He bowed his head slightly. Much of the colour and life had returned to his face. He looked handsomer with every second that passed. Calypso rested her chin in her palm, studying the way the fire cast an orange glow around him. "So, then, who is your true father?"

He looked surprised. "Have you not guessed already?" He raised his head to the sky. "Zeus."

Oh. Well, that certainly explained a few things, like the power and the array of magic items. This young man was not just the prince of two mortal kingdoms, he was a prince of heaven. Calypso decided, she was most definitely impressed.

"Half god," she murmured. "Half mortal." And yet he was different from the Hesperides, whose mother had been mortal. So this was the result of a god and a mortal creating life, as opposed to that of a mortal and a Titan. She liked this result much better.

Perseus and Calypso sat in silence as he finished his third bowl of stew. Finally she asked, "How did you wash up on my island?"

His brow creased. "I..." for several seconds he seemed to be lost in thought. Then his face cleared so suddenly and so dangerously, thunder rumbled overhead. "Cetus," he said. Standing, the stew bowl clattered out of his hands. "Andromeda!"

There was that name again. Calypso started to be angry, but Perseus whirled on her. "Witch! What did you do to me?"

"I beg your pardon?" Calypso was so offended she could barely speak. Faster than the blink of an eye, Perseus snatched his diamond ring from the sand, and suddenly Calypso was faced with point of a diamond blade.

"What spell did you cast on me," Perseus hissed, "that I could possibly forget about Andromeda?"

Calypso bypassed anger and went straight to fury. "I have done nothing but nurse you back to health! Is this the thanks I get?"

Perseus did not run her through, but he did not move, either. "I believe you," he said shortly. "Perhaps it was not your doing." His eyes darted around. "But I must leave. The people of Ethiopia are in danger, and I..." he faltered, and his sword point dipped. "My Andromeda, she..."

Then he was gone. In a flurry, he strapped on his armour, slung the bag over his shoulder, and strapped on his sandals. "They won't work," she warned, still affronted and very confused. "There's magic around the island."

Perseus cursed loudly and roughly, storming down to the beach.

Calypso chased after him. "Who is Andromeda?" She demanded. "Who is Cetus? What aren't you saying?"

As Perseus ripped through the trees, he called over his shoulder. "After securing the throne of Argos, I set off on a journey across the Anatolian Desert. From there I found the kingdom of Ethiopia, and it's princess, Andromeda." His voice turned wistful and pained. "She is the most beautiful maiden I ever beheld." When he reached the beach, seeing no clear way of escape, he cursed again. "And she is in grave danger!"

"What?" Calypso seized his shoulder, forcing him to turn. "What are you talking about, Perseus?"

She didn't mean for her voice to crack. But the way Perseus said Andromeda's name was tearing at her heart, in a way nothing else had ever done before.

Perseus ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. "Her mother, Cassiopeia," he began, faltering. "The queen. She is proud and boastful. She made a toast that her daughter was more beautiful than all the Nereids."

Calypso stiffened. The Nereids were the children of Nereus and Doris. By some accounts, she could be considered one of them. "Is it true?"

"Yes," Perseus said without hesitation. "She is like sunshine, and her eyes..." he shook his head. "But this is not the point. Poseidon overheard, and became enraged. He sent the sea monster Cetus to terrorize Ethiopia. Only if Andromeda is sacrificed to the monster can it be stopped."

There was a lump in Calypso's throat. "You have been fighting this beast?"

"Yes, to prevent her death. Andromeda wanted to give herself up to save her people, but I refused. I told her I could defeat Cetus. I was battling for five days. There seems to be no way to kill it, but I thought..." his hand tightened around the strap of his bag. "I thought perhaps I could use Medusa's gaze to turn Cetus to stone. I was about to; when a tidal wave crashed me out into the open sea."

"And that is how you arrived here." Calypso felt hollow, for reasons she could not think to name.

Perseus nodded, kicking the sand in frustration. "Poseidon has always resented me. He must have sent the wave, and carried me to this prison." He rounded on Calypso once again. "How long has it been?"

"Three days?" Calypso guessed sullenly. Perseus stopped his abuse of the sand. He studied her with those bright blue eyes, and Calypso felt the sudden impulse to kiss him.

She might have even followed on that urge, had the sound of a rocking boat not interrupted them.

Perseus whipped around. A small raft had appeared, floating in the surf. His eyes lit up, and he waded into the water, throwing his belongings on board.

"Wait!" Calypso grabbed at his arms, trying to stop him. She didn't understand the boat, or what it was doing here, nor did she trust it. But Perseus threw her hands off.

"I must return," he said. His face was already fixed on the horizon, and he pulled himself onto the boat. "I must be somewhere in the Caspian Sea. Ethiopia cannot be far."

"But-"

"I thank you for your hospitality," Perseus interrupted. "And I forgive you for keeping me here."

"I did not-"

The boat began to sail away easily, floating along the waves. "Farewell!" Perseus called.

And then Calypso was left, knee-deep in the ocean, facing a boat that was rapidly becoming a speck in the distance, feeling frustrated, confused, and more annoyed than ever.

-·~·-

Later, Calypso had opened the scroll and scribbled Perseus' name down. After staring at it for hours on end, she wrote Andromeda's name beside it.

At the time, she didn't know why she did. He'd stayed on Ogygia for three days. Calypso had never appeared in his myths; he married Andromeda, was the king of three kingdoms, had a happy ending. His great-grandson was Heracles. He had forgotten about her.

But his name was still the first, in a long list of names that decorated her scroll. She ran her fingers down, down to the last name she'd scratched in.

Eighteen names.

When Percy Jackson appeared on her island, she almost laughed at the cruel irony. When she heard about his demand to set her free, she laughed for real. She thought, _this is it_. Her last hero. The saga began with a Perseus, and it would end with a Perseus. After breaking her heart eighteen times, she could finally be at peace.

What a laugh. Calypso should have known better. She learned long ago; she was never going to break this cycle.

Her hand hovered over the Book of Heroes. There was one name missing: she had not yet written in Leo Valdez. Part of her didn't want to. But part of her did, simply for the sweet glory of having no name to write beside him.

But another part of her, a voice much louder, much wiser, and much older, told her to roll up the scroll and continue on, to forget all about Leo Valdez.

Calypso listened.

* * *

**Happy Boxing Day. I hope everyone goes shopping! Buy lots of cool things for me!**


	5. the jacket

On the morning of the third day, Calypso went down to the beach.

She took her loom with her. That hadn't been easy. The loom was large, solid oak. There were lines in the sand from where she forcefully dragged it. But Calypso was strong, stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for, and after about an hour, the loom was set up on the beach and she was weaving in time with the waves and the salty sea wind.

After a time, she stopped thinking and simply started to _do_. What exactly she was weaving, she didn't know. She wasn't looking. Her fingers moved of their own accord, and her eyes were focused on the point on the horizon where the sky met the sea.

"Are you enjoying that?"

Calypso jumped a mile. She stood, nearly knocking over her loom as she whirled around, arms out, ready to attack.

Then her eyes landed on the figure standing in the sand, and she dropped her fists. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Now, now." The woman tutted. "Is that any way to treat your mother?"

Calypso eyed Doris. As usual, looking at her was like looking in a magic mirror that aged your reflection. She looked the exact same as she had that night three thousand years ago, right down to the black cloak.

Rather than speak, Calypso turned and sat heavily back at her loom. She began to weave again, keeping her eyes pointedly away from her mother.

She could hear Doris sigh. Footsteps pushed around the sand, and then Doris was back in her line of sight. "Don't ignore me, daughter."

"Why shouldn't I?" Calypso bit out before she could stop herself. "You certainly haven't hesitated to ignore me."

"Three thousand years haven't changed you. You're still as stubborn as ever."

As usual, there was no anger in Doris' voice, only disappointment. It made Calypso's blood boil.

"Get off my island!" she roared, picking up a piece of her loom and throwing it. Doris leaned to the side as the piece flew past her.

"Oh, perhaps you have changed. You're ruder."

Calypso bit her lip so hard, she drew ichor. Part of her wanted to tackle Doris to the ground and snap her arms right off. But she knew that wouldn't accomplish anything. So instead, she straightened her back, set her shoulders, and sat back down. Even with the missing piece, she could still weave. It was easier to move her hands than to answer.

"You miss him," Doris said plainly. Her voice was not sympathetic. She was simply stating.

"I miss all of them," Calypso replied dully. Doris clicked her tongue.

"This is different," she said, and now there was a tone. She sounded almost amused. "There was something different about this one."

Calypso's hands paused over her loom. She swallowed down a wave of nausea. "Please don't."

"Denial was always your strong suit," Doris continued. "But it's not sitting well with you now, is it?"

"Go away. I didn't ask you to be here."

"Perhaps not out loud, you didn't. But your mind is crying. I can feel it."

Calypso's shoulders tensed. "What are you talking about?"

Doris crossed her frail arms. The fabric of her cloak draped into the sand. "You're heartsick. It's affecting your magic."

"I get 'heartsick' every time," Calypso snapped. "And every time I deal with it. This is no different."

"You keep telling yourself that, and you will drive yourself insane."

"I'm fine."

"Look down."

Calypso stopped. She looked down. Without noticing, her hands had been weaving a very familiar shape. Shaking, she pulled it free and lifted it up off the loom.

"Does that look fine to you?" Doris asked quietly.

Calypso's fingers dug into the soft fabric of Leo's army jacket.

Tears started to sting in her eyes. She flung the jacket into the sand. "Why are you here?" She asked, and her voice cracked. "Did you come to gloat? Say you were right?"

"No, daughter." Calypso couldn't stand the pity in her voice. "I merely came to warn you, as I always do. Your magic is becoming weaker. It diminishes with every day that passes."

"And what would you have me do about it?"

Doris raised her hand. Her fingertips caught Calypso's chin, and she raised her face, forcing her to look up. "Stop lying to yourself." She said simply. "And who knows? When the heart is weakest, the voice becomes the strongest. Perhaps you will become stronger than before."

Calypso wanted to cry. She wanted to say too many things. She wanted to hug her mother, and she wanted to push her away. She wanted to ask, _you thought I was strong?_ And she hated herself for so desperately craving her mother's approval.

But before she could do any of these things, Doris turned and walked into the surf. Partway through, she dissolved into sea foam and disappeared.

Calypso knelt in the sand. She picked up Leo's jacket. Closing her eyes, she allowed the denial to seep out of her bones. She pressed the jacket up to her nose, and breathed in. It smelled like campfire smoke and engine grease and Leo, and she knew it couldn't really smell like him because this wasn't really his jacket.

"I miss you," she told it plainly. Then, without further ado, she slipped her arms into the jacket.

The cage around her heart, the one she hadn't even noticed she had, clicked open. The bars fell away. Calypso breathed a little easier.

Then she blacked out on the beach.

* * *

**Happy New Years, losers~~~ :D**


	6. the dream

Calypso dreamed she was underground.

She realized then that she had never truly been underground before. It was strange, and a little terrifying. Calypso didn't know how, but when she looked up at the dim ceiling, she knew she was under five stories. Fear seized her, and she stumbled back several steps. Her eyes looked around wildly, but it was almost pure blackness around her, and Calypso suddenly had the feeling she was suffocating.

Then she heard the voices.

At first her heart dropped into her stomach. She raised her hands, clenched into tight fists. Chest pounding, breathing heavily, she waited.

"...has _moves_. He's probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces."

And then her fists dropped. The blackness seemed to clear a little bit, and then she could clearly see two people in the shadows. One of them was a young girl with dark skin, crying and kneeling by a pile of rocks like some lovelorn princess. And standing beside her awkwardly, his impish face full of concern, hands hovering awkwardly over her shoulders, was Leo Valdez.

The shock of seeing him again sent something through her system. Her ears buzzed, and her mouth felt full of cotton. His mouth moved, but Calypso couldn't hear what he was saying. She took two steps towards him, and suddenly she was right there. She could have swayed forward and kissed him.

But his eyes remained focused on the girl. Calypso realized he couldn't see her. The noise in her ears died down, and Leo's voice became clearer. She shook her head, stepping back a bit, and tried to listen to what he was saying.

"But it chugs along the way it's supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly... things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting."

Calypso's heart skipped a beat. He said he didn't have anyone. This wasn't the same girl who was in the mirror. But who was she?

"Leo Valdez," the girl said, and her voice was pleasant and warm, although still stuffy from crying. "You're a philosopher."

The corners of his mouth quirked up. "Nah, I'm just a mechanic."

Her heart warmed, despite the situation. She wanted to tell him he was so much more than a mechanic, but he kept talking, saying some things she didn't understand. "We're all going to get through this. I hope you guys get a chance to be happy. Besides, Zhang couldn't tie his shoes without your help."

Calypso felt a lump in her throat. Leo...his words were so sweet, and so simple. She knew then that this girl wasn't anything romantic to him, merely someone he cared about deeply. One of his friends. Calypso turned to her, studying her more closely. She was staring at Leo, and her eyes were wide. Calypso thought those eyes were wide enough to embrace someone.

"What happened to you when you were on your own?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "Who did you meet?"

Calypso's fingers twitched. She studied Leo's face. His eyes drifted, and for a second they seemed to look right at her. Then his lids gave a twitch, and Calypso realized with a surge of emotion that they were talking about _her._

"Long story," he said. "I'll tell you sometime, but I'm still waiting to see how it shakes out."

He was still planning to come back. He was going to try and come back. Calypso started shaking her head, and tears formed in her eyes. She hadn't cried since Leo left. The feeling was almost alien.

"You can't," she said, he voice sharp and echoing. Neither Leo nor the girl made any indication they could hear. "You can't come back! Please, Leo, don't..."

She reached out and cupped her hands to his face. Or, at least, she tried, because the second her skin made contact with him, the world dissolved and she was tossed around, like a ship in a storm, buffeted from side to side until her eyes flew open and she was nearly blinded.

Calypso sat up fast. The world tilted, and nausea overtook her. She turned and heaved her empty stomach. When she was done, the roaring in her ears faded. Slowly, she sat up straight.

She was on Ogygia, as if she had never left. The afternoon sun was high in the sky. The waves lapped calmly at the shore. Her loom sat, patiently waiting.

Calypso took several deep breaths. A shiver wracked her, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, Rough fabric scratched her fingers, and she glanced down in surprise. She was still wearing the copy of Leo's jacket.

"No." Calypso scrambled to her feet. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over her, and she stumbled sideways. "I need to see..." she swallowed thickly and tried to focus her eyes. Leo. What had happened to Leo? He'd been underground. Why was he underground? Why was his friend crying?

Her head started pounding. Calypso pressed her hands to either side. Squeezing her eyes shut, she screamed.

A thousand images flashed behind her eyes. She saw shadows, Leo shooting fire from his palms, a cold and beautiful face she recognized but couldn't place, collapsing tunnels, more shadows, and Leo, surrounded by thick, black smoke.

She opened her eyes and gasped, falling to her knees.

Calypso raised one hand. She stared at it in wonder as it shook violently.

Doris' voice whispered close to her ear. _"Well, daughter. It looks like you've just caught your first look at the future."_


	7. the first time since 1727

Looking back on it, Calypso supposed she didn't fall in love with everyone.

Oh, she'd certainly loved Freddy. But was she in love with him? No, most certainly not. Freddy was...Freddy was different. Freddy had been different from the second he washed up on her shore in his tattered, navy blue military clothes.

No, no, Calypso reminded herself. _Prussian_ blue.

Calypso thought she knew the rules of the game by 1727. She thought she knew everything about her imprisonment, and her punishment. By 1727, Calypso was tired. She had given up. She met a hero, she healed him, she let herself fall in love with him, and then she sent him on his way. There was a constant, dull ache in her chest, and by 1727 Calypso had learned to live with it.

Freddy washed up looking slightly less ragtag than the others. His hair was icy blond, almost white. His eyes, though closed when she first saw him, were lined with pale, frost-like lashes, and the irises were such a deep blue, they seemed violet. He couldn't have been any older than fourteen. But he had a large, blackening bruise over one eye that had Calypso's stomach turning as she lay over him.

She brought him to her cave, and tended to his wounds – especially his eye. Calypso didn't know why, but she wanted all traces of that bruise to be gone when he awoke.

But he awoke sooner than she expected. As in, he awoke right as she was dabbing a cool cloth over his eye.

"Ah," he hissed. Calypso drew her hand back. He mumbled a few words that were near indecipherable, and one word Calypso recognized all too well – "Father."

Her stomach turned yet again. His father had done this to him?

She helped him sit up. "Please," she said in her kindest voice. "You must rest a little longer."

"What is this place?" His beautiful eyes wandered around the room. Then they focused on Calypso. "Who are you?"

She told him about her island, the curse, the magic. In return, he told her his name was Frederick, and he was the crown prince of Prussia. His father, the king, was tyrant. His mother was Aphrodite.

"I was running away from home," he explained quietly. "I was leaving with -" and here his face had coloured rapidly – "A friend. We were almost away, but were caught by the royal guards."

He said royal guards with such bitterness, Calypso had to ask why.

"My father uses demons as his guards. Telkhines, he calls them. No one else can see, but me. I can."

"Because you are a demigod?"

He nodded. "No one believed, me, except..."

When he blushed, his pale face was flooded with scarlet. It was incredibly endearing. "Except your friend," Calypso prompted. "The one you ran away with?"

Freddy cast his eyes down. "He has probably been caught by now." Shakily, he stood. "I should get back. His life may be in danger."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Rest first. Once you've gotten your strength back, you can return, and save your friend. But until then, stay."

Freddy studied her for several long moments. Then he smiled thinly. "All right. You win. But no more than three days."

So she helped him regain his strength. She took him for moonlit walks along the beach. She fed him stew, and sang hymns to speed the healing. His bruises faded, and his back became straighter.

But on the evening of the third day, Calypso was getting worried. Her feelings for Freddy were strange. She knew romantic love, but this didn't feel the same. It was as if someone had poured melting chocolate into her heart when she looked at him. She wanted to hold him, to protect him. Not to kiss him.

And Calypso was worried that this new, odd, strange kind of love would not allow the raft to appear.

So she sat down beside him on the sand. "Tell me about your friend," she prompted.

Freddy had opened up to her over their days on the island. But he still had some doors closed, and Calypso could feel it. She placed her hand on his arm, eyes pleading.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't." His voice was rough. "You may think differently of me."

"How?" Calypso asked. She couldn't see how anything he said would make her want to hold him any less.

So Freddy talked. "His name is Hans," he said. "We've been friends since...well, since I was a child. He's older than me by a few years. Others taught me how to fight, to strategize, to conquer. Hans taught me to read Latin and study philosophy. He's tall, with sandy hair, and green eyes, and-"

"And you love him," Calypso finished.

Freddy swallowed. He looked at Calypso nervously, as if she would suddenly spring away, or pull her fist back and hit him in the face.

It made Calypso want to cry.

Instead she laced her arm through his. "So you ran away with him?" She continued, urging Freddy on.

He let out a shaky breath, relaxing his weight into her. Before long, he was telling her everything about Hans, and the first time they kissed, and with every word it was like a thousand weights lifted off his shoulders. As the moon grew brighter in the sky, Freddy fell asleep with his head on Calypso's shoulder and a smile on his lips.

She brushed his bangs back gently. She would have continued to sit with him all night, but the sound of waves hitting the wooden hull of a raft made her stop.

"Freddy," she whispered, shaking his shoulders. "Wake up! There's a way off the island!"

He woke instantly. Quickly, she pushed him on the raft.

Freddy turned, and hugged her tightly. "How can I ever thank you?" He asked, and Calypso was startled to find tears shining in his eyes.

She pressed her hand against his cheek. "Find Hans," she told him. "Free him. And promise me you'll try and run away again. Only this time, succeed."

"I'll try and come back here," Freddy swallowed thickly. "I'll try and bring Hans back here, and you wouldn't have to be alone anymore."

"I'd like that." Calypso smiled. "But it's impossible."

"Then I'll think of you," he promised. "Every day until I die, and even after that."

He really must have been a son of Aphrodite, Calypso thought. She kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "Go get Hans."

"I will. I promise."

Then he set sail. Calypso watched him go from the beach, but for the first time, she didn't cry. She smiled, and waved, until he was out of sight. Only then did a few tears escape, but they weren't of sadness. She brushed them away.

"Good luck, Freddy," she whispered, and the words carried on the wind. "I have faith in you."

Later on, she did something she had never done before and pushed part of her stew into the fire. She prayed to those few gods who still thought about her, and asked to show her what happened to Freddy. Eagerly, she waited to see his happy ending.

Instead, the images in her fire were of a youth with sandy hair and green eyes kneeling, and an axe coming down on his neck, and Freddy screaming and crying as he was held back by a man in a crown. There were fresh bruises on his pale face.

In 1727, Calypso learned a whole new set of rules. She learned that hope was more painful than anything, because hope would only lead to endless suffering and misery. So Calypso closed her eyes and forgot about hope. She stopped believing in happy endings.

Until, of course, three hundred years later, when a burning demigod crashed into her dining table, and for the first time since 1727, Calypso remembered what it felt like to hope.

* * *

**Eyyy, guess who's not dead :D**

**So if you guys would like to hear the saddest story of all time, look up Frederick the Great of Prussia**

**Like, I just**

**I _can't_**


	8. the mirror

Legs shaking, Calypso stormed up and down the edge of the beach. Her breath heaved, and she fisted her hands into her skirts.

Leo. She had to see what happened to Leo.

Calypso closed her eyes. She concentrated until her ears popped. She let out a scream of anger and frustration, kicking at the sand. Her knee wobbled, then gave out and she collapsed.

Why couldn't she see him?

The last thing she had seen, Leo was underground, surrounded by – no, smothered by – black smoke and an overwhelming sense of fear.

Why couldn't she _see_ him?

Because it was in the future, a small voice in her head said, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Doris. Because it hasn't happened yet.

Calypso pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. She kept pushing in until she saw stars, and her head began to pound viciously. Dazedly, she wondered if she were unconscious again, perhaps she could catch another glimpse. She held her breath.

And promptly let it out again. That kind of destructive behaviour wouldn't do her any good, she knew that. Knew that from some experience.

So, after drawing in several deep breaths, she stood. Everything tilted, but Calypso held her ground. She waited until the world cleared and she could see again.

Slowly, she made her way back towards the cave. After taking a few steps, something glinted out of the corner of her eye. She tried to ignore it, but the more she tried, the brighter it got. Finally, with an annoyed huff, she stopped and faced Leo's forge.

She hadn't stepped a foot inside. The forest, as it sensing her distress, had already started to grow around it. So far, Calypso had done excellently at ignoring it. Until now.

It had never glinted at her before. If Calypso hadn't known better, she would have thought the forge was trying to get her attention, what with its shining metal and glowing mirror and –

Calypso nearly fell over again.

_The mirror_.

She dashed into the small forge, ripping away the overgrown moss and vines. Her mind buzzed. She had to see Leo. She had to know what happened to him, had to make sure that somehow he made it out of that horrid place alive, had to see if he had a happy ending –

It was as if the mirror was responding to her thoughts. It flashed, light sliding across the metal surface with ease. She cupped it in her hands, brushing away the dust and dirt that had gathered over it.

It _was_ responding to her, Calypso realized with a start, as the metal started to hum between her fingers. She'd brought it to life by singing to it. Now it was reaching into her soul, showing her exactly what she wanted to see.

Leo was sitting at the prow of a ship – a Greek trireme, Calypso recognized, and with that came the realization that this was the Argo II. Her eyes traveled up to the massive, bronze figurehead, and her heart gave a jolt. It was Festus – she didn't know how she knew, but she knew, just like she knew Leo was humming even though she couldn't hear anything.

His face was turned to the prow. The wind blew through his hair, tousling the unruly locks, brushing his bangs across his forehead. He sat hunched over something, fiddling with it, nimble fingers dancing over the design. But his eyes were unfocused. They weren't even looking at his hands. They were drifting over the horizon, roving, but looking somewhere within, somewhere Calypso couldn't see.

Shadows along the edges of the mirror told her he wasn't alone on the ship. Yet he was sitting all by himself, not speaking to anyone.

Calypso brushed her fingers softly over the lines of his face. She had only known him for a fortnight, and yet she already missed him so much, it was like an ache.

The image faded. That was okay. Calypso set it down. She'd seen what she needed. The future was all right. Leo made it out of there alive.

He'd managed a happy ending.

* * *

**These are starting to get more and more connected I don't know if I can call it a drabbles series anymore, hoho**


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